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Challenge of the Month II
The Gift. Write the story of a gift, passed from one hand to another. Perhaps it is a heart-warming gesture of kindness and goodwill. Or perhaps it is something more foreboding, more sinister. Perhaps it is a simple, material object. Or perhaps it is something more amorphous, more esoteric. Whatever it is, it must be a gift. Fiction or non-fiction, poetry or Prose.

A Trojan Horse of Insecurities

My reality fractures in a moment, its tiers tear asunder.

Becoming an intricate web of shards, waiting for skin to prick and rend.

A window to the world becomes a mirror to my loneliness.

I stare into the flickering of memories captured over years and hope,

hope theyre memories shared and not forgotten in this moment.

Time in writing and recording spent, spent like years at some frivolity.

Forgotten have I how to be alone with my thoughts,

how to silently find peace in a moment and imagine peacefulness.

Distracted instead by fear mongering, by complaints, by sorrow,

by statements of negativity, constantly dragging hope from its nest.

My reality heals in a moment, its tears and cracks the story I have written.

An intricate web of love and sorrow waiting for skin to feel.

No glass between myself and the world, no mirror to reverse reality.

A gift it was once, a prison for me it became.

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